The Fit
by queien
Summary: When Muraki spies Hisoka alone at a church, he takes things into his own hands and decides to sweep him away to have a bit of gruesome fun with his toy.
1. Chapter 1

[[Hello again! This story is one of my older ones that I've yet to publish anywhere. I found it while going through my old emails and decided to polish it up a little and then post it. Part of the polishing process actually involved tacking another unfinished fic to it, which is now the entirety of chapter one. I just really liked Muraki's creepiness in the unfinished fic and didn't want to see that go to waste. I also found another very long unfinished story that's rather similar to chapter two. Part of me wanted to tack it onto the end of this story, but I liked the end to this fic. Plus, I couldn't remember where I was going with that other story, so there was no way for me to really finish it. I may post that other story as a separate thing or I might not. Idk.

Anyway, this story will have two chapters. This first chapter isn't bad at all, but the second chapter has the following warnings: torture, gore, non-con, skull fucking.]]

* * *

Oh how easy that boy was to manipulate. All it took was a gentle prod to his subconscious and he was nothing more than putty. Muraki smirked as he watched Hisoka, entering his mind to join him on his depressed trip down memory lane.

Muraki loved how the boy thought he had free will. Tsuzuki, too, even though he was harder to direct. The two of them both lived in their little imaginary world where they were in control, where they were the ones with the power and the strength. He loved nurturing their little bubble, weaving a fake world for them and then taking it all away in the blink of an eye. It was a game to him. The ends didn't interest him as much as having a chance to play with them like two little marionettes. Now, though, he had a new game planned.

The demon in white watched as his prey went into the church where Hisoka had "saved" Tsuzuki. Little did the boy know that Muraki had let Tsuzuki be saved. Muraki would never have let any harm befall that beloved, perfect body. He had made it easy for the boy, putting all his pieces into place and then letting him think that he was the great savior, more powerful than that spell.

It had been a feeble spell that Muraki had purposefully put holes into. The gun had been overkill. A well aimed sneeze could have shattered those crystals. Muraki could tell that this was what was on Hisoka's mind. Well, that, and the usual guilt-ridden contemplations about his job.

Muraki watched the boy as he took a seat at the pews and started to cry. That poor little poppet... There was nothing that could prepare him for what would happen next.

"Muraki... Why do you still exist in my thoughts? Why can't I forget you...?" Came Hisoka's sobs.

Muraki saw his opening and approached Hisoka from behind as silently as if he had simply materialized from shadow. "Because I won't let you," he answered simply as he grabbed the boy's slender shoulder.

Hisoka froze at the contact, and Muraki could feel his muscles contract under his skin. He smiled in satisfaction, the same type that a cat displays when it's full yet has a mouse caught under its paw. Muraki was well aware of the boy's empathic powers and couldn't help but wonder how many of the things he was currently feeling were being received.

Hisoka tore himself from his terror and shoved away Muraki's hand. "No!" He cried as he sprinted toward the doors to the church.

Muraki's face twisted into a cruel grin at the boy's reaction. He couldn't help it. The way he struggled and fought against his fate was just so adorable. Endearing, almost. He could see Tsuzuki's interest.

"It's useless," Muraki said coldly as he slowly strode after the boy with slow, purposeful steps, "You pretend that you can act of your own free will, but you are ignorant of the leash I've tied around your neck. You may only go so far as I am willing to let you." His grin widened. "Lucky for you, I'm willing to play chase. I can take you at any time. Might as well have a little fun first." He chuckled. "Not like Mr. Tsuzuki can save you. Not this time, at least..." He raised one hand and the church doors sealed shut with a thunderous bang, locked. Hisoka threw himself against them and pounded against the wood with his fists.

Muraki chuckled, his steps still as slow and purposeful as before. "Come heeeeere, poppet," He purred mockingly. He wouldn't use his control over the boy. Or, at least, not obviously. Making the boy walk over to him and bend his knee was much too easy. It was more interesting to subtly manipulate tiny things inside the boy's head, breaking him down slowly until he was helpless and shattered.

Hisoka kept glancing back at him as he strode closer and closer. His chest heaved as he threw himself again and again at the locked doors like a fly buzzing against a window. Again and again, he pounded against the wood in wild desperation. "Help! Tsuzuki! Help me!" He called out at the top of his voice, but no one came for him. Tears flowed from his eyes as he slammed his fists against the thick oak.

He glanced behind him and saw that Muraki was almost on top of him. Pressing his back to the door, he began to shake. "Get away from me...! You're lying!" Hisoka protested.

Muraki smirked and reached out and grabbed Hisoka's wrist.


	2. Chapter 2

[[Welcome to the second and final chapter of The Fit. Before we get into this chapter (which is going to be very dark and violent, btw, very similar to most of my stories thus far), I thought I'd help set the mood by telling the two jokes I found as part of the original document.

Tasteless joke #1  
Muraki: What's the difference between jam and jelly?  
Hisoka: What?  
Muraki: I can't jelly my dick into your eye.  
Hisoka: ARGH!

Tasteless joke #2  
Hisoka: When you put it like that, I can see where you're coming from.]]

* * *

Dragged along by Muraki, Hisoka stumbled into the pristine lab. When Muraki released him, he recoiled, eyes darting around desperately for some place to hide.

Muraki paced slowly around his prize, icy blue eye wandering slowly up and down the boy's slender body. He rested a well-manicured hand on Hisoka's waist. his touch was gentle yet intimidating. Hisoka flinched and looked away, shuddering. Muraki leaned in and softly licked the youth's ear. Hisoka tensed, breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.

"I'm going to fuck your brains out..." Muraki murmured softly before his tongue probed deeper.

Hisoka turned his head away and shoved against Muraki's chest in a futile attempt to escape. Muraki forced Hisoka's head back and returned to probing Hisoka's ear. When Hisoka again struggled against him, Muraki grabbed the back of Hisoka's head and roughly forced him down on his knees. Muraki smiled down at his toy and then began undoing his pants with one hand, the other keeping a firm grip in Hisoka's hair.

"Wh-what do you even mean by that?" Hisoka asked. He gripped Muraki's pantlegs and pushed, dreading him getting any closer.

"Exactly what it sounds like, of course." Having successfully freed his throbbing erection from the confines of his pants, Muraki grabbed the boy's face in both hands and spread open one of those gorgeous jade-green orbs as wide as it could go. Hisoka scrunched up his face, struggling to free himself or at least close his eye. One of his hands shot out to clasp one of Muraki's wrists as he struggled to remove the hand from hi, but it was no use.

Tears were already starting to brim the boy's eyes by the time Muraki touched the tip of his erection to the wet membrane of Hisoka's eye.

"Don't... Don't, please," Hisoka whimpered, a fresh sob in his voice.

Muraki hesitated a moment, savoring the hopelessness in Hisoka's voice and struggles before mercilessly jamming his hard shaft into the boy's socket, rupturing the thin membrane of the eyeball and spilling its fluids down the youth's cheek.

Hisoka screamed, a blood-curdling shriek of pain that he repeated over and over again as Muraki thrust again and again. At first, he didn't know what to do and just knelt there, hand quivering in the air uselessly in front of him. Then, his shock faded and he struggled wildly, gripping Muraki's pants and shoving as he tried to yank his head free from Muraki's grasp.

Muraki thrust a few more times, undeterred by Hisoka's struggles, but then threw Hisoka aside.

The boy lay on his side, moaning in pain as he held his ruptured eye. Muraki paced, indifferent to the boy's pain. "I can only get the tip in like that," he muttered. "There has to be a better way." He paced for a while longer and then paused, chuckling at the thought. "Of course," he muttered, turning his attention to the boy once more.

Slowly, Hisoka's healing ability was beginning to mend the torn tissue. As the pain started to fade, tears of hopelessness welled up in Hisoka's remaining eye. He stared blankly up at Muraki, knowing that he was helpless against this man.

Muraki knelt by the wounded boy. "You poor, sweet thing..." He murmured with a sly little grin as he gently stroked the boy's cheek. Hisoka flinched away from the touch. "You hurt so much, don't you?" He slid his hand down his prisoner's face and set them on those delicate, trembling lips. "Don't worry. Soon, your eye won't be a problem for you anymore." With no mercy, he forced his fingers into the boy's mouth. One hand gripped Hisoka's upper jaw, and the other gripped the lower. His long, well-kept nails dug deep into the teen's tender tongue and gum tissues, causing him to whimper in pain and fear. "In a moment here, I'll give you such a blinding pain that you won't even be able to feel your socket anymore," he said with a sadistic smile.

Hisoka stared up at him, one hand clutching one of Muraki's arms. He made a desperate sound of protest deep in his throat and struggled to shake his head, but Muraki's grip was firm.

Muraki chuckled at the boy's adorable protests and then pulled at Hisoka's jaw, prying in two different directions at once with all of his strength.

The boy's cheeks tore in a spray of blood that coated his pristine, white jacket. With a satisfying crack, the bones in Hisoka's jaw separated as well.

Hisoka's screams of horror and pain suddenly were cut short as the split continued down his neck. Muraki stopped pulling and scowled. After uselessly wiping his bloodstained hands on his blood-drenched jacket, he slid a finger into what was left of Hisoka's mangled esophagus, prompting a feeble retching sound from the boy.

"This was what I was hoping to get at," Muraki muttered. "Shame..." He withdrew his finger and rested Hisoka's lower jaw – still connected to the boy's neck – on the boy's chest. He frowned as he tried to come up with some other solution. Absently, he traced the exposed roof of Hisoka's mouth with a finger. Yes... that might do. However, he needed some tools before that would become a viable option.

He stood and left Hisoka alone and bleeding on the tile. A few moments later and Muraki returned holding a chisel, a hammer, and pliers. Though the gaze was empty as though devoid of life, Hisoka's remaining eye tracked Muraki's return. Muraki smiled at the attention as he knelt by him again.

Starting with the hammer and chisel, Muraki began to bash his way through the soft pallet. Hisoka groaned, and his tiny body shuddered with each blow.

Muraki's blood-and-eye-juice-coated erection throbbed with anticipation as he worked. Soon, he had a clear shot upwards toward the brain. He fingered the hole, prodding but not damaging the brain. A regular supply of blood from each pitifully weak beat of Hisoka's heart lubricated the newly formed hole.

All that was left to take care of was Hisoka's teeth. Muraki traded the hammer and chisel for the pliers and began yanking out Hisoka's teeth with a violent impatience.

The occasional wet, gasping breaths let Muraki know that Hisoka was still alive, and as Muraki tore out the last of the boy's teeth, a small, panicked whimper let him know that Hisoka was once again conscious.

"So kind of you to join me again," Muraki said. He straddled the boy's neck and positioned his erection at the hole he had spent so much time lovingly creating. Hisoka stared up at him blankly. His penitrated eye had grown back now, and his gaze silently pleaded up at Muraki.

Slowly, Muraki sheathed himself inside of Hisoka's skull, tearing through tendrils of flesh that had desperately tried to heal back together. The boy gurgled feebly under him, but Muraki took no notice, instead focusing on the feel of the hole he had carved for himself.

The fit was perfect.


End file.
